they look hopeful but you, you should not stay
by evershort
Summary: he can see them through the window, and dawson is shaking her head while chief seems to be a statue, and the doctor actually looks sad, like honest sad and not 'sorry for the loss of a person i don't even know' sad. or, shay makes it out of the building and fifty one waits in a hospital for weeks until she wakes.


_i think sometimes i forget something simple as a head wound took leslie shay away from us. i forget, and then she has countless injuries and i just_ forget _that all it took was a beam to her skull. so. sorry about that inaccuracy. i actually think i ignore a head wound all around and just give her a destroyed body. OOPS._

 _also. not a doctor. too lazy to do research. not too lazy to write through 'i'm not listening to a word the doctor says' kelly severide to avoid such a struggle. that is all._

* * *

they pull her out and she's still breathing.

and that's a miracle in itself but all he can think about is how blue eyes didn't open and how blonde hair has been dyed red from blood, with a fine coat of ash and dirt and dust.

how he and dawson had sat there, _pounding_ their best friend's chest with frantic fists, because she has to wake up _she has to wake up_ -

she doesn't.

but she's dragged away from them, from _him_ , the others take her and wind down the stairs and around debris, and when they've all stumbled into the sunlight, when they've transferred her to a stretcher, they're told:

 _'we've got a pulse'_

and this is what they call _the beginning of the end_.

.-.-.-.

kelly doesn't listen to what the doctors have to say.

he never has, not ever, for himself or anyone, and even so it would all go in one ear and out the other. he's learned that, as through the years of shay landing herself in the hospital, he won't take in a _word_ until he's seen her.

dawson listens. she pulls herself together for long enough to hear the diagnosis, the list of injuries and potential outcomes, the surgeries, the _chances_ and _odds_.

and she fixes a glare so menacing that no words were necessary for the doctor to nod, turn on his heel, and march through the doors.

she just.

she doesn't _understand_.

she doesn't understand how, sans peter mills, nobody else was injured in the building collapse.

she doesn't understand how they all walk away with minor scratches and _maybe_ a few concussions to go around.

she doesn't understand how practically the entire lot of them are unscathed, but there's _one person_ who has enough injuries that, by all rights, she should be dead.

it's this thought that makes her put her fist through a wall, that makes her drop into a chair with defeat. it's this very thought that makes her think, _what am i gonna do without you_?

there is irony in that they traded roles, that now it's _dawson_ wondering what she'll do without her partner.

the irony is that they literally traded places, that the beam only hit shay because they swapped roles.

she was ready to go to work without her best friend.

she's not ready to wake up to a world without one.

.-.-.-.

she's hooked up to at least six different machines.

there's a steady beeping, and it's annoying, but he takes comfort in its consistency.

a machine is breathing for her, the bed seems to swallow her whole, let alone the _room_ , and he just.

he's seen her in the hospital before.

he knows what it's like, waiting for her to wake up. waiting for her to crack open an eye, and by the time she's said her fourth sentence she'll be unleashing the snark.

she has so many broken bones it'd be easier to mention the unbroken ones.

her bruises, that he can see, are dark and large and he can't find the ends of them because the bandages wrapped around his best friend are plenty and there's hardly any skin showing, anyway.

someone had the generosity to wash her hair.

the blonde locks are, truly, the only part of her that he can recognize.

.-.-.-.

the doctors and nurses have expressions that hold no hope for the paramedic and fill almost entirely with pity for house fifty one.

severide barely leaves shay's side. when he does, dawson is there. really, both are always there, and never leave if the other has.

the problem is.

the problem is, nobody has hope.

they all want _desperately_ for her to wake up, for leslie shay to come back to them, but none of them have the hope for it.

they've seen what this job can do, to men twice the size of shay, to men with far less injuries.

the hope will only crush them more.

.-.-.-.

it's been three weeks, he thinks. maybe a day or two more.

he isn't sure, to be honest, because all he does is sit and stare and nothing more.

bones are healing slowly, there's another surgery scheduled for tomorrow, possibly, and bruises have only grown darker.

and she _coughs_.

it's weak and pathetic and hardly anything, but he jolts up and herrmann does too, tripping into the hall in his haste to get a nurse because the emergency button just isn't good enough.

kelly's eyes are wide, a stark contrast from shay's closed ones. but she's struggling against the machine and he knows enough to understand - this is _good_.

it's good.

the nurses shuffle in and the doctor jogs in moments later, and he's shoved to the back because they know better than to kick him out of the room entirely.

there's talk and medical jargon and they still have to wait before taking action, and then there will be tests upon tests and probably more machines, but he sinks down to the floor because this is the first spark of hope he's felt since she was pulled away from him, and it's almost too intense.

maybe she'll make it through this.

maybe maybe maybe.

.-.-.-.

she's breathing on her own not long after, and he'd wager that at least half the station is out in the waiting room.

two visitors are allowed into a room at a time, and he almost feels selfish for permanently hogging one of those chairs, but -

dawson has the ability to share.

she has the ability, the _willingness_ , to step back so someone else can step in.

he has always been selfish and really, never learned to share anyway.

he's not leaving any time soon.

.-.-.-.

other people come to visit her, too.

clarke, who transferred out weeks ago.

her old partner rafferty.

several of the nurses throughout this hospital and the other surrounding ones.

megan shay flew down not three days after the incident, and cried nearly every minute she was in the room.

katie came, and even his dad.

nearly all of the intelligence unit crowded around her bed three days ago, despite shay's still unconscious state.

he knows they're all waiting on his phone call.

he just wishes the call will be positive, and not the end of something.

.-.-.-.

'hey,'

cruz was in the room today, and thus a witness to the utter _joy_ that washed over kelly severide's face as leslie shay greeted them with a groggy voice.

there was a string of words, ringing with disbelief and relief and adoration from both men. her eyes were open, she's breathing on her own, and she's _talking_ -

kelly and cruz are openly crying as they call for the doctor, and eventually shay falls back asleep grinning.

.-.-.-.

'well, you know. everything hurts.' she's talking through a smile, though, and nobody even flinches. 'but. i've got a good support system.'

'the _best_ support system,' otis is enthusiastic, but then, they all are. truck is crowded around shay's bedside, chief among them. they've been there for fifteen minutes, and are due to swap out with squad.

they pat her hand, gently, gentler than she's ever seen them treat anything, and some even kiss her cheek.

between truck shuffling out and squad coming in, she rolls her head to look at kelly.

he looks like hell, but she imagines she's worse.

'i don't have the energy to entertain them for ten minutes.'

'then don't. sleep. stare at them. shay, don't exhaust yourself for us. we're happy that you're awake. we'll be happy when you're out of here. that's all we want.'

she loved that she could be honest with him. that he would be honest back.

so as squad tromped in, she gave her best smile and didn't fight the call of sleep.

.-.-.-.

she doesn't stay up for even half an hour at a time, but when she _is_ awake, she makes sure to talk to those around her.

she holds dawson's hand and asks all about the life of a female firefighter.

[shay pouts when she learns that dawson put her life on hold for the time being but asks for a gentle hug all the same.]

she makes herrmann talk about his kids and puts exaggerated favoritism on her godson.

she badgers cruz to tell her _all about this new paramedic girl, and ask her out already_.

every time she wakes, it's a new person. she wakes every few hours, so, that makes sense. otis never fails to crack open his copy of _star wars_ and reads aloud to her.

she's not sure why she lets him.

maybe because she can look over to her best friend and know he's thinking the exact same thing she is [how did we ever live with this nerd] and she can laugh.

and then wince and then that takes away the fun but she'll fall asleep in ten minutes anyway.

because, yeah. kelly severide never learned how to share.

and he has a consistent spot just on her right, and that's fine by her.

.-.-.-.

a day comes where she doesn't sleep for a full two hours.

kelly is nearly beside himself with glee, because even though the hospital life is wearing down on shay, today is the turning point in her recovery.

they allow three visitors now, and dawson has taken to hogging that second spot.

shay just looks at them and smiles. rafferty had made some lame comment that had them all grinning, and he and dawson just sit back and take the scene in for a moment.

shay, sitting up in bed. talking easily, less bandaged. blonde hair limp but still shining. she can laugh easier, breathe easier, _live_ easier.

she still needs surgeries and has an incredibly long road ahead of her.

but like he said.

this is the turning point in her recovery.

.-.-.-.

they both sleep through the night - after the tenth day, the nurses had taken pity and allowed a second bed to be pushed into the private room - and the next morning, he wakes and showers and waits as is his usual routine now.

when her eyes open, she stares at the ceiling and doesn't move.

'kelly,' she whispers after several minutes.

he jolts, because he hadn't realized she'd woken up. 'right here.'

'i don't feel good.'

she turns her head and vomits.

.-.-.-.

the doctor is outside talking to dawson and the chief.

he stays in her room because he's never listened to doctors before anyway, and he's not gonna start now.

and like hell he'll leave her, anyway.

but he can see them through the window, and dawson is shaking her head while chief seems to be a statue, and the doctor actually looks sad, like _honest_ sad and not _sorry for the loss of a person i don't even know_ sad.

he clenches his jaw for several long moments.

and then he turns towards his best friend, because she's staring at the wall behind his head with a scary expression that he doesn't want to decipher.

'remember that time you threw your alarm clock down the stairs?'

.-.-.-.

within twenty minutes she's sleeping and fifteen after that chief is ushering him out of her room.

he goes under protest, _immense_ protest, but goes nonetheless because the look the three fixed him with was enough to make his heart drop.

'what are you _saying_?' he demands, after the doc had spewed complicated terms and reminders that this miracle of her waking up was never expected to happen.

'he's saying we need to prepare ourselves,' dawson's voice is hoarse, and the line she used seemed to be straight out of a movie. 'she was doing great yesterday, but. that doesn't take away from how...' she swallowed and he looked back into shay's room, just to check in. still sleeping. 'that doesn't change the fact that her injuries still-'

she shakes her head and now he's the one swallowing thickly. he knows what she's saying, understands now what he didn't hear the doctor say.

she was never getting better.

or, she was.

but it was too little, too slow, all the broken bones and internal injuries and still-required-surgeries building up high against the easy smiles and ability to breathe.

the real turning point in her recovery was that the turn was towards death.

.-.-.-.

the hospital continues with the three visitor policy. they know there's no getting severide or dawson out of there, and they've seen how dedicated the rest of the house is to this paramedic. it's only fair.

shay barely wakes for any of their visits.

but everyone who walks into the room, they know.

clarke holds her hand, and her two best friends look away when he starts talking emotionally about sand running out.

otis and cruz and capp, they're all openly crying. herrmann cries before and he cries after, but when he's given his moment, he smiles through it and ensures his youngest will hear praises of his godmother.

the thing is, the entire house is there, right outside the door. looking in through the window, poking their heads through the open door. there's no keeping them in the waiting room, no keeping them away from their family, and it's crowded but they've never been more quiet or respectful as they are now.

she wakes up when chief is holding her hand, and they all smile at her through the window.

she smiles back because what else can she do, really.

.-.-.-.

dawson has long since abandoned her chair in favor of curling up on the bed next to shay. it's dark outside, and dark in the room, and the rest of the house is just outside the door.

[ what's truly sick is that really, they're all just waiting.

waiting for the inevitable, but this is their _family._

they all agreed to take their moments and then stay outside, agreed to let her two best friends be alone with her because even though they had been alone with her day after day for _weeks_ now, it was the only reasonable way for this to go.

and so, they sat outside the room. leaned against the walls. avoided looking into the still open door.

and they waited. ]

severide pulled his chair as close as he could get and then pulled it closer, holding her hand with both of his and keeping his face close to hers.

'remember when we made cupcakes,' dawson all but whispered, hugging shay with her entire body.

shay's mouth twitched in a grin. 'rocks. we made - rocks.'

'i've never failed at baking so hard in my life as i did that night.'

'shay ever tell you about the time she made the coffee pot explode?'

dawson's eyes flicker to his. 'she neglected to tell anyone, i think.'

'that wasn't,' shay very nearly wheezes. 'my fault.'

'well it wasn't my fault,' and he's teasing, like he always does with her, but now - now this is probably their last conversation and he doesn't know how to _do_ this.

'i don't - shay, what am i gonna do without you?' dawson squeezes her eyes shut because she never wants to live in a world that doesn't have her partner in it with her.

'you'll... be fine.' shay nods jerkily. it's really more of a twitch. 'i promise.'

they're silent then, and he can see dawson trying desperately to push back the tears, can see shay blinking slowly and feel her tightening her hand around his.

'kel.'

'right here.'

'love you.'

'love you too. we both do. we _all_ love you.'

'always?'

'yes, always. you're our best friend, leslie elizabeth shay.'

her fingers twitch, and they're silent again. he can hear the men outside, he can hear his best friend's breaths rattle and stick in her chest. he can feel dawson shaking the entire bed with her silent cries. he can feel the burn at the back of his own eyes and the restriction in his chest that's been tight for weeks now.

eventually the beeping stops and the nurses on standby creep in. dawson sobs audibly as there's shuffling as outside, the men standing up slowly.

he feels it as the life drains out of her.

it's the worst thing he's ever felt in his entire life.

* * *

 _title from please don't go by barcelona_

 _i've read through this maybe ten different times but. things happen. i'm tired. mistakes are likely._

 _this was so cheesy I'M SORRY. it's embarrassing. i'm embarrassed. bye._


End file.
